MBBBI 


352 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 

GIFT  OF 

Robert  B.   Campbell 


THE  PURPLE  PARASOL 


THE 

PURPLE  PARASOL 


GEORGE   BARR  McCUTCHEON 

Author  of  "  ^Beverly  of  Graustark,"  etc. 


<i\       Witb  Illustrations  by  HARKISON  FISHER  and 
Decorations  by  CHAS.  B.  FAIXS 


NEW  YORK 

DODD,  MEAD  AND 

COMPANY 

19O5 


Copyright,  1904,  by 
Eu  £u  Publiihing  Co. 


Copyright,  1903,  by     /;' 

Dodd.  Mead  and 
V^    Company 


Published  April,  1905 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


Frontispiece 


Page 


"Going  quite  close  to  her  lie  bent  for 
ward  and  looked  long  and  sadly 
upon  the  perfect  face" 46 

" '  Havens  and  Mrs.  W.  went  hill-climb 
ing  this  afternoon "' 66 

*"  I  do  not  intend  to  be  catechized  by 

you,  sir'" 82 

" '  Perhaps  it  is  because  I  have  a  fancy 

for  the  ridiculous'"  [Pageios] 1O4 


863178 


THE  PURPLE  PARASOL 

OUNG  Rossiter  did  not 
like  the  task.  The  more 
he  thought  of  it  as  he 
whirled  northward  on  the 
Empire  State  Express  the 
more  distasteful  it  seemed  to  grow. 

"  Hang  it  all,"  he  thought,  throwing 
down  his  magazine  in  disgust,  "  it 's  like 
police  work.  And  heaven  knows  I  have  n't 
wanted  to  be  a  cop  since  we  lived  in 
Newark  twenty  years  ago.  Why  the 
dickens  did  old  Wharton  marry  her? 
He 's  an  old  ass,  and  he  's  getting  just 


8  THE  PURPLE  PARASOL 


what  he  might  have  expected.  She 's 
twenty-five  and  beautiful ;  he  's  seventy 
and  a  sight.  I  've  a  notion  to  chuck  the 
whole  affair  and  go  back  to  the  simple 
but  virtuous  Tenderloin.  It 's  not  my 
sort,  that 's  all,  and  I  was  an  idiot  for 
mixing  in  it.  The  firm  served  me  a 
shabby  trick  when  it  sent  me  out  to  work 
up  this  case  for  Wharton.  It 's  a  regular 
Peeping  Tom  job,  and  I  don't  like  it." 

It  will  require  but  few  words  to  explain 
Sam  Rossiter's  presence  in  the  north 
bound  Empire  Express,  but  it  would 
take  volumes  to  express  his  feelings  on 
the  subject  in  general.  Back  in  New 
York  there  lived  Godfrey  Wharton,  mil 
lionaire  and  septuagenarian.  For  two 


THE   PURPLE   PARASOL  9 

years  he  had  been  husband  to  one  of 
the  prettiest,  gayest  young  women  in  the 
city,  and  in  the  latter  days  of  this  re 
sponsibility  he  was  not  a  happy  man. 
His  wife  had  fallen  desperately,  even  con 
spicuously,  in  love  with  Everett  Havens, 
the  new  leading  man  at  one  of  the  fashion 


able  playhouses.  The  affair  had  been 
going  on  for  weeks,  and  it  had  at  last 
become  the  talk  of  the  town.  By  "  the 
town"  is  meant  that  vague,  expansive 
thing  known  as  the  "  Four  Hundred." 
Sam  Rossiter,  two  years  out  of  Yale, 
was  an  attachment  to,  but  not  a  com 
ponent  part  of,  the  Four  Hundred.  The 
Whartons  were  of  the  inner  circle. 

Young    Rossiter   was    ambitious.     He 


10  THE  PURPLE  PARASOL 

was,  besides,  keen,  aggressive,  and  de 
termined  to  make  well  for  himself.  En 
tering  the  great  law  offices  of  Grover 
&/  Dickhut  immediately  after  leaving  col 
lege,  he  devoted  himself  assiduously  to 
the  career  in  prospect.  He  began  by 
making  its  foundation  as  substantial  as 
brains  and  energy  would  permit.  So 
earnest,  so  successful  was  he  that  Grover 
&  Dickhut  regarded  him  as  the  most 
promising  young  man  in  New  York. 
They  predicted  a  great  future  for  him, 
no  small  part  of  which  was  the  ultimate 
alteration  of  an  office  shingle,  the  name 
of  Rossiter  going  up  in  gilt,  after  that  of 
Dickhut.  And,  above  all,  Rossiter  was 
a  handsome,  likable  chap.  Tall,  fair, 

P 


THE   PURPLE   PARASOL  11 

sunny-hearted,  well  groomed,  he  was  a 
fellow  that  both  sexes  liked  without  much 
effort. 


The  Wharton  trouble  was  bound  to 
prove  startling  any  way  one  looked  at  it. 
The  prominence  of  the  family,  the  bald 
ness  of  its  skeleton,  and  the  gleeful  eager 
ness  with  which  it  danced  into  full  view 
left  but  little  for  meddlers  to  covet.  A 
crash  was  inevitable  ;  it  was  the  clash 
that  Grover  &  Dickhut  were  trying  to 
avert.  Old  Wharton,  worn  to  a  slimmer 
frazzle  than  he  had  ever  been  before  his 
luckless  marriage,  was  determined  to 
divorce  his  insolent  younger  half.  It 
was  to  be  done  with  as  little  noise  as 
possible,  more  for  his  own  sake  than  for 


12  THE  PURPLE  PARASOL 


hers.  Wharton  was  proud  in,  not  of,  his 
weakness. 

It  became  necessary  to  "shadow" 
the  fair  debutante  into  matrimony.  After 
weeks  of  indecision  Mr.  Wharton  finally 
arose  and  swore  in  accents  terrible  that 
she  was  going  too  far  to  be  called  back. 
He  determined  to  push,  not  to  pull, 
on  the  reins.  Grover  &  Dickhut  were 
commanded  to  get  the  "evidence";  he 
would  pay.  When  he  burst  in  upon 
them  and  cried  in  his  cracked  treble 
that  "the  devil's  to  pay,"  he  did  not 
mean  to  cast  any  aspersion  upon  the 
profession  in  general  or  particular.  He 
was  annoyed. 

"She's  going   away   next    week,"   he 


THE   PURPLE   PARASOL  13 

exclaimed,  as  if  the  lawyers  were  to 
blame  for  it. 

"Well,  and  what  of  it?"  asked  Mr. 
Grover  blandly. 

"  Up  into  the  mountains,"  went  on  Mr. 
Wharton  triumphantly. 

"Is  it  against  the  law?"  smiled  the 
old  lawyer. 

"Confound  the  law!  I  don't  object 
to  her  going  up  into  the  mountains  for 
a  rest,  but " 

"  It 's  much  too  hot  in  town  for  her,  I 
fancy." 

"How's  that?"  querulously.  "But 
I  've  just  heard  that  that  scoundrel 
Havens  is  going  to  the  mountains  also." 

"  The  same  mountain  ?  " 


14  THE  PURPLE  PARASOL 

"  Certainly.     I  have  absolute  proof  of 
it.     Now,  something  has  to  be  done  !  " 


And  so  it  was  that  the  promising  young 
lawyer,  Samuel  W.  Rossiter,  Jr.,  was 
sent  northward  into  the  Adirondacks  one 
hot  summer  day  with  instructions  to  be 
tactful  but  thorough.  He  had  never  seen 
Mrs.  Wharton,  nor  had  he  seen  Havens. 
There  was  no  time  to  look  up  these 
rather  important  details,  for  he  was  off 
to  intercept  her  at  the  little  station  from 
which  one  drove  by  coach  to  the  quiet 
summer  hotel  among  the  clouds.  She 
was  starting  the  same  afternoon.  He 
found  himself  wondering  whether  this 
petted  butterfly  of  fashion  had  ever  seen 
him,  and,  seeing  him,  had  been  suffi- 


THE  PURPLE  PARASOL  15 

ciently  interested  to  inquire,  "  Who  is 
that  tall  fellow  with  the  light  hair?"  It 
would  be  difficult  to  perform  the  duties 
assigned  to  him  if  either  she  or  Havens 
knew  him  for  what  he  was.  His  pride 
would  have  been  deeply  wounded  if  he 
had  known  that  G  rover  &  Dickhut  recom 
mended  him  to  Wharton  as  "  obscure." 


"  They  say  she  is  a  howling  beauty  as 
well  as  a  swell,"  reflected  Rossiter,  as 
the  miles  and  minutes  went  swinging  by. 
"  And  that 's  something  to  be  thankful 
for.  One  likes  novelty,  especially  if  it's 
feminine.  Well,  I  'm  out  for  the  sole 
purpose  of  saving  a  million  or  so  for  old 
Wharton,  and  to  save  as  much  of  her 
reputation  as  I  can  besides.  With  the 


16  THE  PURPLE   PARASOL 

proof  in  hand  the  old  duffer  can  scare 
her  out  of  any  claim  against  his  bank 
account,  and  she  shall  have  the  abso 
lute  promise  of  '  no  exposure '  in  return. 
Isn't  it  lovely?  Well,  here's  Albany. 
Now  for  the  dinky  road  up  to  Fossing- 
fbrd  Station.  I  have  an  hour's  wait 
here.  She 's  coming  on  the  afternoon 
train  and  gets  to  Fossingford  at  eleven- 
ten  to-night.  That's  a  dickens  of  a  time 
for  a  young  woman  to  be  arriving  any 
where,  to  say  nothing  of  Fossingford." 


Loafing  about  the  depot  at  Albany, 
Rossiter  kept  a  close  lookout  for  Mrs. 
Wharton  as  he  pictured  her  from  the 
description  he  carried  in  his  mind's  eye. 
Her  venerable  husband  informed  him 


THE   PURPLE  PARASOL  17 

that  she  was  sure  to  wear  a  white  shirt 
waist,  a  gray  skirt,  and  a  Knox  sailor  hat, 

F 


because  her  maid  had  told  him  so  in  a 
huff.  But  he  was  to  identify  her  chiefly 
by  means  of  a  handsome  and  oddly 
trimmed  parasol  of  deep  purple.  Whar- 
ton  had  every  reason  to  suspect  that  it 
was  a  present  from  Havens,  and  therefore 
to  be  carried  more  for  sentiment  than 
protection. 

A  telegram  awaited  him  at  Fossing- 
ford  Station.  Fossingford  was  so  small 
and  unsophisticated  that  the  arrival  of  a 
telegraphic  message  that  did  not  relate  to 
the  movement  of  railroad  trains  was  an 
"occasion."  Everybody  in  town  knew 
that  a  message  had  come  for  Samuel 


18 


THE  PURPLE  PARASOL 


Rossiter,  and  everybody  was  at  the  depot 
to  see  that  he  got  it.  The  station  agent 
had  inquired  at  the  "eating-house"  for  the 
gentleman,  and  that  was  enough.  With 
the  eyes  of  a  Fossingford  score  or  two 
upon  him,  Rossiter  read  the  despatch 
from  Grover  &/  Dickhut. 

"Too  bad,  ain't  it?"  asked  the  agent, 
compassionately  regarding  the  newcomer. 
Evidently  the  contents  were  supposed  to 
be  disappointing. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know,"  replied   Rossi- 


THE  PURPLE  PARASOL  19 


ter  easily.  But  just  the  same  he  was 
troubled  in  mind  as  he  walked  over  and 
sat  down  upon  his  steamer  trunk  in  the 
shade  of  the  building.  The  telegram 
read  : 

"  She  left  New  York  five-thirty  this  even 
ing.  Stops  over  night  Albany.  Fossing- 
ford  to-morrow  morning.  Watch  trains. 
Purple  parasol.  Sailor  hat.  Gray  trav- 
elling  suit.  (t 


It  meant  that  he  would  be  obliged 
to  stay  in  Fossingford  all  night  —  but 
where?  A  general  but  comprehensive 
glance  did  not  reveal  anything  that 
looked  like  a  hotel.  He  thought  of 
going  back  to  Albany  for  the  night,  but 


20  THE  PURPLE   PARASOL 

it  suddenly  occurred  to  him  that  she 
might  not  stop  in  that  city,  after  all. 
Pulling  his  wits  together,  he  saw  things 
with  a  new  clearness  of  vision.  Osten- 


sibly  she  had  announced  her  intention  to 
spend  the  month  at  Eagle  Nest,  an  ob 
scure  but  delightful  hotel  in  the  hills ; 
but  did  that  really  mean  that  she  would 
go  there?  It  was  doubtless  a  ruse  to 
throw  the  husband  off  the  track.  There 
were  scores  of  places  in  the  mountains, 
and  it  was  more  than  probable  that  she 
would  give  Eagle  Nest  a  wide  berth. 
Rossiter  patted  his  bump  of  perceptive- 
ness  and  smiled  serenely  until  he  came 
plump  up  against  the  realization  that  she 
might  not  come  by  way  of  Fossingford 


THE   PURPLE   PARASOL  21 

at  all,  or,  in  any  event,  she  might  go 
whisking  through  to  some  station  farther 
north.  His  speculations  came  to  an  end 
in  the  shape  of  a  distressing  resolution. 
He  would  remain  in  Fossingford  and 
watch  the  trains  go  by  ! 

After  he  had  dashed  through  several 
early  evening  trains,  the  cheerful,  philo 
sophical  smile  of  courage  left  his  face 
and  trouble  stared  from  his  eyes.  He 
saw  awkward  prospects  ahead.  Suppose 
she  were  to  pass  through  on  one  of  the 
late  night  trains  !  He  could  not  rush 
through  the  sleepers,  even  though  the 
trains  stopped  in  Fossingford  for  water. 


Besides,  she  could  not   be  identified   by 
means  of  a  gray  suit,  a  sailor  hat,  and  a 


22          THE  PURPLE  PARASOL 

purple  parasol  if  they  were  tucked  away 
in  the  berth.  At  eleven  o'clock  he  was 
pacing  the  little  depot  platform,  waiting 
for  the  eleven-ten  train,  the  last  he  was 
to  inspect  for  the  night.  He  had  eaten 
a  scanty  meal  at  the  restaurant  nearby, 
and  was  still  mad  about  it.  The  station 
agent  slept  soundly  at  his  post,  and  all 
the  rest  of  the  town  had  gone  to  bed. 

The  train  pulled  in  and  out  again, 
leaving  him  at  the  far  end  of  the  plat 
form,  mopping  his  harassed  brow.  He 
had  visited  the  chair-cars  and  had  seen 


no  one  answering  the  description.  A 
half-dozen  passengers  huddled  off  and 
wandered  away  in  the  darkness. 


THE  PURPLE   PARASOL  23 

"  I  '11  bet  my  head  she  's  in  one  of  those 
sleepers,"  he  groaned,  as  he  watched  the 
lights  on  the  rear  coach  fade  away  into 


the  night.  "  It 's  all  off  till  to-morrow, 
that 's  settled.  My  only  hope  is  that  she 
really  stopped  in  Albany.  There 's  a 
train  through  here  at  three  in  the  morn 
ing  ;  but  I  'm  not  detective  enough  to 
unravel  the  mystery  of  any  woman's 
berth.  Now,  where  the  deuce  am  /  to 
sleep?" 

As  he  looked  about  dismally,  discon 
solately,  his  hands  deep  in  his  pockets, 
his  straw  hat  pulled  low  over  his  sleepy 
eyes,  the  station  agent  came  up  to  him 
with  a  knowing  grin  on  his  face. 


24  THE  PURPLE  PAR\SOL 

"'Sense  me,  boss,  but  she's  come," 
he  said,  winking. 

"She?     Who?" 

"Her.  The  young  lady.  Sure!  She's 
lookin'  fer  you  over  in  the  waitin'-room. 
You  mus'  'a'  missed  her  when  she  got 
off — thought  she  wasn't  comin'  up  till 
to-morrer.  Mus'  'a'  changed  her  mind. 
That's  a  woming  all  over,  ain't  it?" 


Rossiter  felt  himself  turn  hot  and  cold. 
His  head  began  to  whirl  and  his  courage 
went  fluttering  away.  Here  was  a  queer 
complication.  The  quarry  hunting  for 
the  sleuth,  instead  of  the  reverse.  He 
fanned  himself  with  his  hat  for  one  brief, 
uncertain  moment,  dazed  beyond  belief. 
Then  he  resolutely  strode  over  to  face 


THE   PURPLE   PARASOL 


25 


the  situation,  trusting  to  luck  to  keep  him 
from  blundering  his  game  into  her  hands. 
Just  as  he  was  about  to  put  his  foot  upon 
the  lamp-lit  door-sill  the  solution  struck 
him  like  a  blow.  She  was  expecting 
Havens  to  meet  her! 


There  was  but  one  woman  in  the  room, 
and  she  was  approaching  the  door  with 
evident  impatience  as  he  entered.  Both 
stopped  short,  she  with  a  look  of  surprise, 
which  changed  to  annoyance  and  then  crept 
into  an  nervous,  apologetic  little  smile  ;  he 
with  an  unsuppressed  ejaculation.  She 
wore  a  gray  skirt,  a  white  waist,  and  a 
sailor  hat,  and  she  was  surpassingly  good  to 
look  at  even  in  the  trying  light  from  the 
overhead  lamp.  Instinctively  his  eye  swept 


26          THE  PURPLE  PARASOL 

over  her.  She  carried  on  her  arm  the  light 
gray  jacket,  and  in  one  hand  was  the  tightly 
rolled  parasol  of — he  impertinently  craned 


his  neck  to  see  —  of  purple  !  Mr.  Rossiter 
was  face  to  face  with  the  woman  he  was 
to  dog  for  a  month,  and  he  was  flabber 
gasted.  Even  as  he  stopped,  puzzled, 
before  her,  contemplating  retreat,  she 
spoke  to  him. 

"  Did  that  man  send  you  to  me  ?  "  she 
asked  nervously,  looking  through  the 
door  beyond  and  then  through  a  window 
at  his  right,  quite  puzzled,  he  could  see. 

"  He  did,  and  I  was  sure  he  was  mis 
taken.  I  knew  of  no  one  in  this  God 
forsaken  place  who  could  be  asking  for 
me,"  said  he,  collecting  his  wits  carefully 


THE  PURPLE  PARASOL  21 

and  herding  them  into  that  one  sentence. 
"  But  perhaps  I  can  help  you.  Will  you 
tell  me  whom  I  am  to  look  for?  " 

"It  is  strange  he  is  not  here,"  she  said 
a  little  breathlessly.  "  I  wired  him  just 
what  train  to  expect  me  on." 

"Your  husband?"  ventured  he  admir 
ably. 

"  Oh,  dear,  no  !  "  said  she  quickly. 

"  I  wish  she  'd  wired  me  what  train  to 
expect  her  on,"  thought  he  grimly.  "  She 
does  n't  know  me.  That 's  good.  She  was 
expecting  Havens  and  he 's  missed  con 
nections  somehow,"  shot  rapidly  through 


his  brain.  At  the  same  time  he  was 
thinking  of  her  as  the  prettiest  woman  he 
had  seen  in  all  his  life.  Then  aloud  : 


28  THE  PURPLE  PARASOL 

"  I  '11  look  on  the  platform.  Maybe  he  's 
lost  in  this  great  city.  What  name  shall 
I  call  out?" 

"  Please  don't  call  very  loudly.  You  '11 
wake  the  dead,"  she  said,  with  a  pathetic 
smile.  "It's  awfully  good  of  you.  He 
may  come  at  any  minute,  you  know.  His 
name  is — is"  —she  hesitated  for  a  second, 
and  then  went  on  determinedly — "Dudley. 
Tall,  dark  man.  I  don't  know  how  I  shall 
thank  you.  It's  so  very  awkward." 

F 


Rossiter  darted  from  her  glorious  but 
perplexed  presence.  He  had  never  seen 
Havens,  but  he  was  sure  he  could  recog 
nize  an  actor  if  he  saw  him  in  Fossing- 
ford.  And  he  would  call  him  Dudley, 
too.  It  would  be  wise.  The  search 


THE   PURPLE   PARASOL  29 


was  fruitless.  The  only  tall,  dark  object 
he  saw  was  the  mailcrane  at  the  edge 
of  the  platform,  but  he  facetiously  asked 
if  its  name  was  Dudley.  Receiving  no 
answer,  he  turned  back  to  cast  additional 
woe  into  the  heart  of  the  pretty  intriguer. 
She  was  standing  in  the  door,  despair  in 
her  eyes.  Somehow  he  was  pleased 
because  he  had  not  found  the  wretch. 
She  was  so  fair  to  look  upon  and  so 
appealing  in  her  distress. 

11  You  could  n't  find  him?  What  am  I 
to  do?  Oh,  is  n't  it  awful  ?  He  promised 
to  be  here." 

"  Perhaps  he's  at  a  hotel." 

"  In  Fossingford  ?  "  in  deep  disgust. 
"  There 's  no  hotel  here.  He  was  to 


30  THE  PURPLE  PARASOL 

drive  me  to  the  home  of  a  friend  out  in 
the  country."  Rossiter  leaned  against  the 
wall  suddenly.  There  was  a  long  silence. 
He  could  not  find  his  tongue,  but  his  eyes 
were  burning  deep  into  the  plaintive  blue 
ones  that  looked  up  into  his  face. 


"  I  '11  ask  the  agent,"  he  said  at  last. 

"  Ask  him  what?  "  she  cried  anxiously. 

"If  he's  been  here.  No,  I'll  ask  if 
there  's  a  place  where  you  can  sleep  to 
night.  Mr.  Dudley  will  surely  turn  up 
to-morrow." 

"  But  I  could  n't  sleep  a  wink.  I  feel 
like  crying  my  eyes  out,"  she  wailed. 

"  Don't  do  that !  '  exclaimed  he,  in 
alarm.  "  I  '11  take  another  look  outside." 

"  Please  don't.     He  is  not  here.     Will 


THE  PURPLE  PARASOL  31 

you  please  tell  me  what  I  am  to  do  ?  "  — 
very  much  as  if  it  was  his  business  to 
provide  for  her  in  the  hour  of  need. 

Rossiter  promptly  awoke  the  agent  and 
asked  him  where  a  room  could  be  procured 
for  the  lady.  Doxie's  boarding-house 
was  the  only  place,  according  to  the  agent, 
and  it  was  full  to  overflowing.  Besides, 
they  would  not  "  take  in  "  strange  women. 

"  She  can  sleep  here  in  the  waiting- 
room,"  suggested  the  agent.  "  They  '11  let 
you  sleep  in  the  parlor  over  at  Doxie's, 
mister  —  maybe." 

Rossiter  did  not  have  the  heart  to  tell 
her  all  that  the  agent  said.  He  merely 
announced  that  there  was  no  hotel  except 
the  depot  waiting-room. 


32  THE  PURPLE  PARASOL 

"  By  the  way,  does  Mr.  Dudley  live 
out  in  the  country?"  he  asked  insidiously. 
She  flushed  and  then  looked  at  him 
narrowly. 

"  No.    He  '&  visiting  his  uncle  up  here." 

"  Funny  he  missed  you." 

"  It 's  terribly  annoying,"  she  said 
coldly.  Then  she  walked  away  from  him 
as  if  suddenly  conscious  that  she  should 
not  be  conversing  with  a  good-looking 
stranger  at  such  a  time  and  place  and 
under  such  peculiar  circumstances.  He 
withdrew  to  the  platform  and  his  own 
reflections. 

"  He  's  an  infernal  cad  for  not  meeting 
her,"  he  found  himself  saying,  her  pretty, 
distressed  face  still  before  him.  "  I  don't 


THE   PURPLF   PARASOL  33 

care  a  rap  whether  she  's  doing  right  or 
wrong — she  's  game.  Still,  she 's  a  blamed 
little  fool  to  he  travelling  up  here  on  such 
an  outlandish  train.  So  he  's  visiting  an 

F 


uncle,  eh  ?  Then  the  chances  are  they  're 
not  going  to  Eagle  Nest.  Lucky  I 
waited  here — I  'd  have  lost  them  entirely 
if  I  'd  gone  back  to  Albany.  But  where 
the  deuce  is  she  to  sleep  till  morn- 
He  heard  rapid  footsteps  behind  him  and 
turned  to  distinguish  Mrs.  Wharton  as 
she  approached  dimly  but  gracefully.  The 
air  seemed  full  of  her. 

"Oh,  Mr.  —  Mr. — "  she  was  saying 
eagerly. 

"  Rollins." 

"  Is  n't  there  a  later  train,  Mr.  Rollins?" 


34  THE  PURPLE  PARASOL 

"  I  '11  ask  the  agent." 

"  There 's  the  flyer  at  three-thirty 
A.  M.,"  responded  the  sleepy  agent  a 
minute  later. 

"  I  '11  just  sit  up  and  wait  for  it,"  she 
said  coolly.  "  He  has  got  the  trains 
confused." 

"  Good  heavens  !     Till  three-thirty  ?  " 

"  But  my  dear  Mr.  Rollins,  you  won't 
be  obliged  to  sit  up,  you  know.  You  're 
not  expecting  any  one,  are  you  ?  " 


"  N-no,  of  course  not." 

"  By  the  way,  why  are  you  staying 
up?"  He  was  sure  he  detected  alarm 
in  the  question.  She  was  suspecting 
him ! 


THE  PURPLE  PARASOL          35 

"  I  have  nowhere  to  go,  Miss  —  Mrs. 
—  er  —  She  merely  smiled  and  he 
said  something  under  his  breath.  "  I  'm 
waiting  for  the  eight  o'clock  train." 


"  How  lovely  !  What  time  will  the 
three-thirty  train  get  here,  agent?" 

"  At  half-past  three,  I  reckon.  But 
she  don't  stop  here  !  " 

"Oh,  goodness!  Can't  you  flag  it  — 
her,  I  mean  ?  " 

"What's  the  use?"  asked  Rossiter. 
"  He  's  not  coming  on  it,  is  he  ?  " 

"  That 's  so.  He  's  coming  in  a  buggy. 
You  needn't  mind  flagging  her,  agent." 

"  Well,  say,  I  'd  like  to  lock  up  the 
place,"  grumbled  the  agent.  "There's 


36  THE  PURPLE  PARASOL 

no  more  trains  to-night  hut  Number 
Seventeen,  and  she  don't  even  whistle 
here.  I  can't  set  up  here  all  night." 

"Oh,  you  wouldn't  lock  me  out  in 
the  night,  would  you?"  she  cried  in  such 
pretty  despair  that  he  faltered. 


F 

"  I  got  to  git  home  to  my  wife. 
She's " 

"That's  all  right,  agent,"  broke  in 
Rossiter  hastily.  "  I  '11  take  your  place 
as  agent.  Leave  the  doors  open  and  I  '11 
goon  watch.  I  have  to  stay  up  anyway." 

There  was  a  long  silence.  He  did 
not  know  whether  she  was  freezing  or 
warming  toward  him,  because  he  dared 
not  look  into  her  eyes. 

"  I  don't  know  who  you  are,"    she  said 


THE   PURPLE   PARASOL  37 

distinctly  but  plaintively.  It  was  very 
dark  out  there  on  the  platform  and  the 
night  air  was  growing  cold. 

"  It  is  the  misfortune  of  obscurity,"  he 
said  mockingly.  "  I  am  a  most  humble 
wayfarer  on  his  way  to  the  high  hills.  If 
it  will  make  you  feel  any  more  comfort 
able,  madam,  I  will  say  that  I  don't 
know  who  you  are.  So,  you  see,  we  are 
in  the  same  boat.  You  are  waiting  for  a 
man  and  I  am  waiting  for  daylight.  I 
sincerely  trust  you  may  not  have  as  long 
to  wait  as  I.  Believe  me,  I  regard  my 
self  as  a  gentleman.  You  are  quite  as 
safe  with  me  as  you  will  be  with  the 
agent,  or  with  Mr.  —  Mr.  Dudley,  for  that 
matter." 

F 


38          THE  PURPLE  PARASOL 

"  You  may  go  home  to  your  wife,  Mr. 
Agent,"  she  said  promptly.  "  Mr.  Rollins 
will  let  the  trains  through,  I  'm  sure." 

The  agent  stalked  away  in  the  night 
and  the  diminutive  station  was  left  to  the 
mercy  of  the  wayfarers. 

"  And  now,  Mr.  Rollins,  you  may  go 
over  in  that  corner  and  stretch  out  on  the 
bench.  It  will  be  springless,  I  know,  but 
I  fancy  you  can  sleep.  I  will  call  you 
for  the  —  for  breakfast." 


"  I  'm  hanged  if  you  do.  On  the  con 
trary,  I  'm  going  to  do  my  best  to  fix  a 
comfortable  place  for  you  to  take  a  nap. 
I  '11  call  you  when  Mr.  Dudley  comes." 

"  It 's    most    provoking   of    him,"    she 


THE  PURPLE  PARASOL  39 


said,  as  he  began  rummaging  through  his 
steamer  trunk.  "  What  are  you  doing?" 

"  Hunting  out  something  to  make  over 
into  a  mattress.  You  don't  mind  napping 
on  my  clothes,  do  you  ?  Here  's  a  soft 
suit  of  flannels,  a  heavy  suit  of  cheviot,  a 
dress  suit,  a  spring  coat,  and  a  raincoat. 
I  can  rig  up  a  downy  couch  in  no  time 
if " 

"  Ridiculous  !  Do  you  imagine  that 
I  'm  going  to  sleep  on  your  best  clothes? 
I  'm  going  to  sit  up." 

"  You  '11  have  to  do  as  I  say,  madam, 
or  be  turned  out  of  the  hotel,"  said  he, 
with  an  infectious  grin. 

"  But  I  insist  upon  your  lying  down. 


40  THE  PURPLE  PARASOL 

You  have  no  reason  for  doing  this  for  me. 
Besides,  I  'm  going  to  sit  up.  Good 
night  !  " 

"  You  are  tired  and  ready  to  cry,"  he 
said,  calmly  going  on  with  his  prepa 
rations.  She  stood  off  defiantly  and 
watched  him  pile  his  hest  clothes  into  a 
rather  comfortable-looking  heap  on  one 
of  the  long  benches.  "  Now,  if  you  don't 
mind,  I  '11  make  a  pillow  of  these  negligee 
shirts.  They  're  soft,  you  know." 

"Stop!     I  refuse  to  accept  your- 
she  was  protesting. 


"  Do  you  want  me  to  leave  you  here 
all  alone?"  he  demanded.  "With  the 
country  full  of  tramps  and - 

"  Don't !     It 's    cowardly    of   you    to 


THE  PURPLE  PARASOL  41 

frighten  me.  They  say  the  railroads  are 
swarming  with  tramps,  too.  Won't  you 
please  go  and  see  if  Mr.  Dudley  is  any 
where  in  sight?" 


"  It  was  mean  of  me,  I  confess.  Please 
lie  down.  It 's  getting  cold.  Pull  this 
raincoat  over  yourself.  I  '11  walk  out 
and " 

"  Oh,  but  you  are  a  determined  person. 
And  very  foolish,  too.  Why  should  you 
lose  a  lot  of  sleep  just  for  me  when  -  -  ?  " 

"  There  is  no  reason  why  two  men 
should  fail  you  to-night,  Mrs.  — Miss " 

"  Miss  Dering,"  she  said,  humbled. 

"  When  you  choose  to  retire,  Miss 
Dering,  you  will  find  your  room  quite 
ready,"  he  said  with  fine  gallantry, 


42          THE  PURPLE  PARASOL 

bowing  low  as  he  stood  in  the  doorway. 
"  I  will  be  just  outside  on  the  platform, 
so  don't  be  uneasy." 

He  quickly  faded  into  the  night,  leaving 
her  standing  there,  petulant,  furious,  yet 
with  admiration  in  her  eyes.  Ten  minutes 
later  he  heard  her  call.  She  was  sitting 
on  the  edge  of  the  improvised  couch, 
smiling  sweetly,  even  timidly. 

"  It  must  be  cold  out  there.  You 
must  wear  this." 

She  came  toward  him,  the  raincoat  in 
one  hand,  the  purple  parasol  in  the  other. 
He  took  the  parasol  only  and  departed 
without  a  word.  She  gasped  and  would 
have  called  after  him,  but  there  was  no 


THE  PURPLE  PARASOL  43 


use.  With  a  perplexed  frown  and  smile 
she  went  slowly,  dubiously  toward  the 
folded  bed. 

Rossiter  smoked  three  cigars  and 
walked  two  miles  up  and  down  the  platform, 
swinging  the  parasol  absent-mindedly, 
before  he  ventured  to  look  inside  the  room 
again.  In  that  time  he  had  asked  and 
answered  many  questions  in  his  mind. 
He  saw  that  it  would  be  necessary  to 
change  his  plans  if  he  was  to  watch  her 
successfully.  She  evidently  gave  out 
Eagle  Nest  to  blind  her  husband.  Some 
how  he  was  forgetting  that  the  task  before 
him  was  disagreeable  and  undignified. 
What  troubled  him  most  was  how  to 


44  THE  PURPLE  PARASOL 

follow  them  if  Havens  —  or  Dudley  —  put 
in  an  appearance  for  the  three-thirty  train. 
He  began  to  curse  Everett  Havens  softly 
but  potently. 


When  he  looked  into  the  waiting-room 
she  was  sound  asleep  on  the  bench.  It 
delighted  him  to  see  that  she  had  taken 
him  at  his  word  and  was  lying  upon  his 
clothes.  Cautiously  he  took  a  seat  on  the 
door-sill.  The  night  was  as  still  as  death 
and  as  lonesome  as  the  grave.  For  half 
an  hour  he  sat  gazing  upon  the  tired, 
pretty  face  and  the  lithe  young  figure  of 
the  sleeper.  He  found  himself  dreaming, 
although  he  was  wide  awake  —  never  more 
so.  It  occurred  to  him  that  he  would  be 
immensely  pleased  to  hear  that  Ilavenss 


THE  PURPLE  PARASOL  45 

reason    for    failing    her   was   due    to    an 
accident  in  which  he  had  been  killed. 

"  Those  clothes  will  have  to  be  pressed 
the  first  thing  to-morrow,"  he  said  to 
himself,  but  without  a  trace  of  annoyance. 
"Hang  it  all,  she  doesn't  look  like 
that  sort  of  woman,"  his  mind  switched. 
"  But  just  think  of  being  tied  up  to  an  old 
crocodile  like  Wharton !  Gee!  One 
oughtn't  to  blame  her!" 


Then  he  went  forth  into  the  night  once 
more  and  listened  for  the  sound  of  buggy 
wheels.  It  was  almost  time  for  the  arrival 
of  the  belated  man  from  the  country,  and 
he  was  beginning  to  pray  that  he  would 
not  appear  at  all.  It  came  to  his  mind 
that  he  should  advise  her  to  return  to 


46  THE  PURPLE  PARASOL 

New  York  in  the  morning.  At  last  his 
watch  told  him  that  the  train  was  due  to 
pass  in  five  minutes.  And  still  no  buggy  ! 
Good !  He  felt  an  exhilaration  that 
threatened  to  break  into  song. 

Softly  he  stole  back  into  the  waiting- 
room,  prepared  to  awaken  her  before 
the  train  shot  by.  Something  told  him 
that  the  rumble  and  roar  would  terrify 
her  if  she  were  asleep.  Going  quite  close 
to  her  he  bent  forward  and  looked  long 
and  sadly  upon  the  perfect  face.  Her 
hair  was  somewhat  disarranged,  her  hat 


had  a  very  hopeless  tilt,  her  lashes  swept 
low  over  the  smooth  cheek,  but  there  was 
an  almost  imperceptible  choke  in  her 
breathing.  In  her  small  white  hand 


"Going  quite  close  to  her  he  bent  fortvard  and 

looked  long  and  sadly  upon  the 

perfect  face  " 


THE  PURPLE  PARASOL  47 

she  clasped  a  handkerchief  tightly,  and 
—  yes,  he  was  sure  of  it  —  there  were 
tear-stains  beneath  her  lashes.  There 
came  to  him  the  faint  sob  which  lingers 


long  in  the  breath  of  one  who  has  cried 
herself  to  sleep.  The  spy  passed  his 
hand  over  his  brow,  sighed,  shook  his 
head  and  turned  away  irresolutely.  He 
remembered  that  she  was  waiting  for  a 
man  who  was  not  her  husband. 

Far  down  the  track  a  bright  star  came 
shooting  toward  Fossingford.  He  knew 
it  to  be  the  headlight  of  the  flyer.  With 
a  breath  of  relief  he  saw  that  he  was 
the  only  human  being  on  the  platform. 
Havens  had  failed  again.  This  time  he 
approached  the  recumbent  one  deter- 


48  THE   PURPLE   PARASOL 

minedly.       She    was    awake    the    instant 
he  touched  her  shoulder. 


"  Oh,"  she  murmured,  sitting  erect 
and  looking  about,  bewildered.  "  Is  it 
-has  he  —  oh,  you  are  still  here?  Has 
he  come?  " 

"  No,  Miss  Dering,  he  is  not  here," 
and  added,  under  his  breath,  "damn 
him  !  "  Then  aloud,  "  The  train  is 
coming." 

"And  he  didn't  come?"  she  almost 
wailed. 

"  I  fancy  you  'd  better  try  to  sleep  until 
morning.  There  's  nothing  to  stay  awake 
for,"  although  it  came  with  a  pang. 

"  Absolutely  nothing,"  she  murmured, 
and  his  pride  took  a  respectful  tumble. 


THE  PURPLE  PARASOL  49 

As  she  began  to  rearrange  her  hair,  rather 
clumsily  spoiling  a  charming  effect,  he 
remonstrated. 

"  Don't  bother  about  your  hair."  She 
looked  at  him  in  wonder  for  an  instant, 
a  little  smile  finally  creeping  to  her  lips. 
He  felt  that  she  understood  something. 
"  Maybe  he  '11  come  after  all,"  he  added 
quickly. 

"  What  are  you  doing  with  my  par 
asol  ?  "  she  asked  sleepily. 

"  I  'm  carrying  it  to  establish  your  iden 
tity  with  Dudley  if  he  happens  to  come. 
He  '11  recognize  the  purple  parasol,  you 
know." 


"  Oh,  I  see,"  she  said  dubiously.    "  He 
gave  it  to  me  for  a  birthday  present." 


50          THE  PURPLE  PARASOL 


"  I  knew  it,"  he  muttered. 

"What?" 

"I  mean  I  knew  he'd  recognize  it," 
he  explained. 

The  flyer  shot  through  Fossingford 
at  that  juncture,  a  long  line  of  roaring 
shadows.  There  was  silence  between 
them  until  the  rumble  was  lost  in  the 
distance. 

"  If  you  don't  mind,  I  'd  like  to  go  out 
on  the  platform  for  awhile,"  she  said 
finally,  resignation  in  her  eyes.  "  Perhaps 
he  's  out  there,  wondering  why  the  train 
did  n't  stop." 

"  It 's  cold  out  there.  Just  slip  into 
my  coat,  Miss  Bering. "  He  held  the 
raincoat  for  her,  and  she  mechanically 


THE  PURPLE  PARASOL  51 

slipped  her  arms  into  the  sleeves.  She 
shivered,  but  smiled  sweetly  up  at  him. 

"  Thank  you,  Mr.  Rollins,  you  are  very 
thoughtful  and  very  kind  to  me." 

They  walked  out  into  the  darkness. 
After  a  turn  or  two  in  silence  she  took 
the  arm  he  proffered.  He  admired  the 
bravery  with  which  she  was  trying  to 
convince  him  that  she  was  not  so  bitterly 
disappointed.  When  she  finally  spoke 
her  voice  was  soft  and  cool,  just  as  a 
woman's  always  is  before  the  break. 

"  He  was  to  have  taken  me  to  his 
uncle's  house,  six  miles  up  in  the  country. 
His  aunt  and  a  young  lady  from  the 
South,  with  Mr.  Dudley  and  me,  are  to 
go  to  Eagle  Nest  to-morrow  for  a  month." 


52  THE   PURPLE   PARASOL 

"  How  very  odd,"  he  said  with  well- 
assumed  surprise.  "  I,  too,  am  going  to 
Eagle  Nest  for  a  month  or  so." 


She  stopped  stock-still,  and  he  could 
feel  that  she  was  staring  at  him  hardly. 

"You  are  going  there?'  she  half 
whispered. 

"  They  say  it  is  a  quiet,  restful  place," 
he  said.  "  One  reaches  it  hy  stage  over 
land,  I  believe."  She  was  strangely 
silent  during  the  remainder  of  the  walk. 
Somehow  he  felt  amazingly  sorry  for  her. 
"  I  hope  I  may  see  something  of  you 
while  we  are  there,"  he  said  at  last. 

"  I  imagine  I  couldn't  help  it  if  I  were 
to  try,"  she  said.  They  were  in  the  path 
of  the  light  from  the  window,  and  he  saw 


THE   PURPLE   PARASOL  53 

the  strange  little  smile  on  her  face.  "  I 
think  I  '11  lie  dovfh  again.  Won't  you 
find  a  place  to  sleep,  Mr.  Rollins  ?  I  can't 
bear  the  thought  of  depriving  you " 

"  I  am  the  slave  of  your  darkness,"  he 
said  gravely. 

She  left  him,  and  he  lit  another  cigar. 
Daylight  came  at  last  to  break  up  his 
thoughts,  and  then  his  tired  eyes  began  to 
look  for  the  man  and  buggy.  Fatigued 
and  weary,  he  sat  upon  his  steamer  trunk, 
his  back  to  the  wall.  There  he  fell  sound 
asleep. 

He  was  awakened  by  some  one  shaking 
him  gently  by  the  shoulder. 


54  THE  PURPLE  PARASOL 

"  You  are  a  very  sound  sleeper,  Mr. 
Rollins,"  said  a  familiar  voice,  but  it  was 
gay  and  sprightly.  He  looked  up  blankly, 
and  it  was  a  full  half-minute  before  he 
could  get  his  bearings. 


F 

A  young  woman  with  a  purple  parasol 
stood  beside  him,  laughing  merrily,  and 
at  her  side  was  a  tall,  dark,  very  good- 
looking  young  man. 

"I  couldn't  go  without  saying  good- 
by  to  you,  Mr.  Rollins,  and  thanking 
you  again  for  the  care  you  have  taken  of 
me,"  she  was  saying.  He  finally  saw  the 
little  gloved  hand  that  was  extended 
toward  him.  Her  companion  was  carrying 
her  jacket  and  the  little  travelling-bag. 

"Oh  —  er  —  good-by,  and  don't  men- 


THE  PURPLE  PARASOL  55 

tion  it,"  he  stammered,  struggling  to  his 
feet.     "Was  I  asleep?" 

"  Asleep  at  your  post,  sir.    Mr.  Dudley 

-oh,  this  is  Mr.  Dudley,  Mr.  Rollins  - 
came  in  ten  minutes  ago  and  found  —  us 

-  both  —  asleep." 

"  Isn't  it  lucky  Mr.  Dudley  happens  to 
be  an  honest  man?"  said  Rossiter,  in  a 
manner  so  strange  that  the  smile  froze  on 
the  face  of  the  other  man.  The  unhappy 
barrister  caught  the  quick  glance  that 
passed  between  them,  and  was  vaguely 


convinced  that  they  had  been  discussing 
him  while  he  slept.  Something  whispered 
to  him  that  they  had  guessed  the  nature 
of  his  business. 

"  My  telegram  was  not  delivered  to  him 


5(>  THE   PURPLE   PARASOL 

until  tins  morning.  Wasn't  it  provok 
ing?"  she  was  saying. 

"  What  time  is  it  now?"  asked  Ros- 
siter. 

"  Half-past  seven,"  responded  Dudley 
rather  sharply.  His  black  eyes  were 
fastened  steadily  upon  those  of  the  ques 
tioner.  "  Mr.  Van  Haltford's  man  came 
in  and  got  Miss  Bering's  telegram  yes 
terday,  but  it  was  not  delivered  to  me 
until  a  neighbor  came  to  the  house  with 
both  the  message  and  messenger  in  charge. 
Joseph  had  drunk  all  the  whisky  in 
Fossingford. 

"  Then  there  's  no  chance  for  me  to  get 
a  drink,  I  suppose,"  said  liossiter  with  a 
wry  smile. 


THE  PURPLE  PARASOL  57 

"Do  you  need  one?'1  asked  Miss 
Dering  saucily. 

"  I  have  a  headache." 

"  A  pick-me-up  is  what  you  want," 
said  Dudley  coldly. 

"  My  dear  sir,  I  haven't  been  drunk," 
remonstrated  Rossiter  sharply.  His 
hearers  laughed  and  he  turned  red  but 
cold  with  resentment. 

"  See,  Mr.  Rollins,  I  have  smoothed 
out  your  clothes  and  folded  them,"  she 
said,  pointing  to  her  one-time  couch.  "  I 
could  n't  pack  them  in  your  trunk  because 
you  were  sitting  on  it.  Shall  I  help  you 
now  ?  " 

"  No,  I  thank  you,"  he  said  ungra 
ciously.  "  I  can  toss  'em  in  any  old  way." 


58  THE  PURPLE  PARASOL 

He  set  about  doing  it  without  another 
word.  His  companions  stood  over  near 
the  window  and  conversed  earnestly  in 
words  too  low  for  him  to  distinguish. 
From  the  corner  of  his  eye  he  could  see 
that  Dudley's  face  was  hard  and  uncom 
promising,  while  hers  was  eager  and 
imploring.  The  man  was  stubbornly 
objecting  to  something,  and  she  was  just 
as  decided  in  an  opposite  direction. 


'*  He  's  finding  fault  and  she  's  trying 
to  square  it  with  him.  Oh,  my  beauties, 
you  '11  have  a  hard  time  to  shake  off  one 
Samuel  Rossiter.  They 're  suspicious  — 
or  he  is,  at  least.  Some  one  has  tipped 
me  off  to  them,  I  fancy." 


THE  PURPLE  PARASOL  59 

"  I  'm  sorry  they  are  so  badly  mussed, 
Mr.  Rollins,  but  they  did  make  a  very 
comfortable  bed,"  she  said,  walking  over 
to  him.  Her  cheeks  were  flushed  and  her 
eyes  were  gleaming.  "  You  are  going  to 
Eagle  Nest  to-day?" 


"  Just  as  soon  as  I  can  get  a  con 
veyance.  There  is  a  stage-coach  at  nine, 
Miss  Bering." 

"  We  will  have  room  for  you  on  our 
break,"  she  said  simply.  Her  eyes  met 
his  bravely  and  then  wavered.  Rossiter's 
heart  gave  a  mighty  leap. 

"  Permit  me  to  second  Miss  Dering's 
invitation,"  said  Dudley,  coming  over. 
The  suggestion  of  a  frown  on  his  face 


60  THE  PURPLE  PARASOL 

made  Rossiter  only  too  eager  to  accept 
the    unexpected    invitation.      "  My    aunt 


and  Miss  Crozier  are  outside  with  the 
coachman.  You  can  have  your  luggage 
sent  over  in  the  stage.  It  is  fourteen 
miles  by  road,  so  we  should  he  under 
way,  Mr.  Rollins." 

As  Rossiter  followed  them  across  the 
platform  he  was  saying  to  himself: 

"  Well,  the  game  's  on.  Here  's  where 
I  begin  to  earn  my  salary.  I  '11  hang  out 
my  sign  when  I  get  back  to  New  York  : 
1  Police  Spying.  Satisfaction  guaranteed. 
References  given.'  Hang  it  all,  I  hate 
to  do  this  to  her.  She  's  an  awfully  good 
sort,  and  —  and-  But  I  don't  like  this 
damned  Havens !  " 


THE  PURPLE  PARASOL  61 

Almost  before  he  knew  it  he  was  being 
presented  to  two  handsome,  fashionably 
dressed  young  women  who  sat  together  in 
the  rear  seat  of  the  big  mountain  break. 

"Every  cloud  has  its  silver  lining," 
Miss  Dering  was  saying.  "  Let  me 
present  you  to  Mr.  Dudley's  aunt,  Mrs. 
Van  Haltford,  and  to  Miss  Crozier,  Mr. 
Rollins." 

In  a  perfect  maze  of  emotions,  he  found 
himself  bowing  before  the  two  ladies,  who 
smiled  distantly  and  uncertainly.  D  udley 's 
aunt?  That  dashing  young  creature  his 
aunt  ?  Rossiter  was  staggered  by  the 


boldness  of  the  claim.  He  could  scarce 
restrain  the  scornful,  brutal  laugh  of  de 
rision  at  this  ridiculous  play  upon  his 


62          THE  PURPLE  PARASOL 


credulity.  To  his  secret  satisfaction  he 
discovered  that  the  entire  party  seemed 
nervous  and  ill  at  ease.  There  was  a 
trace  of  confusion  in  their  behavior.  He 
heard  Miss  Dering  explain  that  he  was 
to  accompany  the  party  and  he  saw  the 
poorly  concealed  look  of  disapproval  and 
polite  inquiry  that  went  between  the  two 
ladies  and  Dudley.  There  was  nothing 
for  it,  however,  now  that  Miss  Dering 
had  committed  herself,  and  he  was  advised 
to  look  to  his  luggage  without  delay. 

He  hurried  into  the  station  to  arrange 
for  the  transportation  of  his  trunk  by 
stage,  all  the  while  smiling  maliciously  in 
his  sleeve.  Looking  surreptitiously  from 


THE  PURPLE  PARASOL  63 

a  window  he  saw  the  quartet,  all  of  them 
now  on  the  break,  arguing  earnestly  over 
—  him,  he  was  sure.  Miss  Dering  was 
plaintively  facing  the  displeasure  of  the 
trio.  The  coachman's  averted  face  wore  a 
half-grin.  The  discussion  ended  abruptly 
as  Rossiter  reappeared,  but  there  was  a 
coldness  in  the  air  that  did  not  fail  to 
impress  him  as  portentous. 

"  I  'm  the  elephant  on  their  hands  —  the 
proverbial  hot  coal,"  he  thought  wickedly,, 
"  Well,  they  've  got  to  bear  it  even  if  they 
can't  grin."  Then  aloud  cheerily  :  "  All 
aboard  !  We  're  off !  "  He  took  his  seat 
beside  the  driver. 


II 


HE  events  of  the  ensuing 
week  are  best  chronicled 
by  the  reproduction  of 
Rossiter's  own  diary  or 
report,  with  liberties  in 
the  shape  of  an  author's  comments. 

THURSDAY. 

"  Settled  comfortably  in  Eagle  Nest 
House.  Devilish  rugged  and  out-of-the- 
way  place.  Mrs.  Van  Haltford  is  called 
Aunt  Josephine.  She  and  Miss  Debby 
Crozier  have  rooms  on  the  third  floor. 
Mine  is  next  to  theirs,  Havens's  is  next  to 
mine,  and  Mrs.  Wharton  has  two  rooms 


THE  PURPLE  PARASOL  65 

beyond  his.  We  are  not  unlike  a  big 
family  party.  They  're  rather  nice  to  me. 
I  go  walking  with  Aunt  Josephine.  I 
don't  understand  why  I  'm  sandwiched  in 
between  Havens  and  Aunt  Josephine. 
Otherwise  the  arrangement  is  neat.  There 
is  a  veranda  outside  our  windows.  We 
sit  upon  it.  Aunt  Josephine  is  a  great 
bluff,  but  she 's  clever.  She 's  never 
napping.  I  've  tried  to  pump  her.  Miss 
Crozier  is  harmless.  She  doesn't  care. 
Havens  never  takes  his  eyes  off  Mrs.  W. 
when  they  are  together.  She  looks  at 
him  a  good  bit,  too.  They  don't  pay 
much  attention  to  me.  Aunt  Josephine's 
husband  is  very  old  and  very  busy.  He 
can't  take  vacations.  Everybody  went 


66  THE  PURPLE  PARASOL 

to    bed     early    to-night.      No    evidence 
to-day." 


FRIDAY  NIGHT. 

"  Havens  and  Mrs.  W.  went  hill-climb 
ing  this  afternoon  and  were  gone  for  an  hour 
before  I  missed  them.  Then  I  took  Aunt 
Jo  and  Debby  out  for  a  quick  climb. 
Confound  Aunt  Jo!  She  got  tired  in  ten 
minutes  and  Debby  would  n't  go  on  without 
her.  I  think  it  was  a  put-up  job.  The 
others  did  n't  return  till  after  six.  She 
asked-  me  if  I  'd  like  to  walk  about  the 
grounds  after  dinner.  Said  I  would.  We 
did.  Havens  went  with  us.  Could  n't 
shake  him  to  save  my  life." 


Hat-ens  and  J£rs.   W.  went  It  ill-climbing  this 
afternoon '  " 


THE  PURPLE  PARASOL  67 

SATURDAY  NIGHT. 

"  I  have  to  watch  myself  constantly  to 
keep  from  calling  her  Mrs.  Wharton.  I 
believe  writing  her  real  name  is  bad  policy. 
It  makes  me  forget.  After  this  I  shall 
call  her  Miss  Dering,  and  I'll  speak  of 
him  as  Dudley.  This  morning  he  asked 
me  to  call  him  «  Jim.'  He  calls  me  '  Sam.* 
Actors  do  get  familiar.  When  she  came 
downstairs  to  go  driving  with  him  this 
morning  I  '11  swear  she  was  the  prettiest 
thing  I  ever  saw.  They  took  a  lunch  and 
were  gone  for  hours.  I  'd  like  to  punch 
his  face.  She  was  very  quiet  all  evening, 
and  I  fancied  she  avoided  me.  I  smelt 
liquor  on  his  breath  just  before  bedtime. 


68 


THE  PURPLE  PARASOL 


"  One  A.  M.  —  I  thought  everybody 
had  gone  to  bed,  but  they  are  out  there 
on  the  veranda  talking.  Just  outside  her 
windows.  I  distinctly  heard  him  call  her 
'  dearest.'  Something  must  have  alarmed 
them,  for  they  parted  abruptly.  He 
walked  the  veranda  for  an  hour,  all  alone. 
Plenty  of  evidence." 

SUNDAY  NIGHT. 

"  For  appearance's  sake  he  took  Miss 
Crozier  for  a  walk  to-day.  I  went  to  the 
chapel  down  the  hill  with  Miss  Dering 
and  Aunt  Josephine.  Aunt  Josephine 


THE  PURPLE  PARASOL  69 


put  a  ten-dollar  bill  in  the  box.  Thinks 
she 's  squaring  herself  with  the  Lord,  I 
suppose.  Miss  Bering  was  not  at  all 
talkative  and  gave  every  sign  of  being 
uncomfortable  because  he  had  the  audacity 
to  go  walking  with  another  girl.  In  the 
afternoon  she  complained  of  being  ill  and 
went  to  her  room.  Later  on  she  sent  for 
Dudley  and  Mrs.  Van  Haltford.  They 
were  in  her  room  all  afternoon.  I  smoked 
on  the  terrace  with  Debby.  She  is  the 
most  uninteresting  girl  I  ever  met.  But 
she  's  on  to  their  game.  I  know  it  because 
she  forgot  herself  once,  when  I  mentioned 
Miss  Dering's  illness,  and  said  :  *  Poor 
girl !  She  is  in  a  most  trying  position. 
Don't  you  think  Mr.  Dudley  is  a  splendid 


70  THE  PURPLE  PARASOL 

fellow?'  I  said  that  he  was  very  good- 
looking,  and  she  seemed  to  realize  she  had 
said  something  she  ought  not  to  have  said 
and  shut  up.  I  'm  sorry  she  's  sick,  though. 
I  miss  that  parasol  dreadfully.  She 
always  has  it,  and  I  can  see  her  a  mile 
away.  Usually  he  carries  it,  though. 
Well,  I  suppose  he  has  a  right — as  orig 
inal  owner.  Jim  and  I  smoked  together 
this  evening,  but  he  evidently  smells  a 
mouse.  He  did  not  talk  much,  and  I 
caught  him  eying  me  strangely  several 
times." 


MONDAY  NIGHT. 

"  Dudley  has  departed.     I  believe  they 
are  on  to  me.     He  went  to  Boston  this 


THE  PURPLE  PARASOL  71 

afternoon,  and  he  actually  was  gruff  with 
me  just  before  leaving.  The  size  of  the 
matter  is,  some  one  has  posted  him,  and 
they  are  all  up  to  my  game  as  a  spy.  I 
wish  I  were  out  of  it.  Never  was  so 
ashamed  of  a  thing  in  my  life ;  don't 
feel  like  looking  any  one  in  the  face. 


They  've  all  been  nice  to  me.  But  what 's 
the  difference?  They're  all  interested. 
She  went  to  the  train  with  him  and  —  the 
rest  of  us.  I  '11  never  forget  how  sad  she 
looked  as  she  held  his  hand  and  bade  him 
good-by.  I  carried  the  parasol  back  to 
the  hotel,  and  I  know  I  hurt  her  feelings 
when  I  maliciously  said  that  it  would 
look  well  with  a  deep  black  border.  She 
almost  looked  a  hole  through  me.  Fine 


12          THE  PURPLE  PARASOL 

eyes.  I  don't  know  what  is  coming  next. 
She  is  liable  to  slip  out  from  under  my  eye 
at  any  time  and  fly  away  to  meet  him 
somewhere  else.  I  telegraphed  this  mes 
sage  to  Grover  &  Dickhut : 

"  He  has  gone.     She  still  here.     What 
shall  I  do  ? 

11  Got  this  answer  : 

"  Stay  there  and  watch.    They  suspect 
you.     Don't  let  her  get  away. 

"But  how  the  devil  am  I  to  watch  day 
and  night  ?  " 


THE  PURPLE  PARASOL  73 

The  next  week  was  rather  an  unevent 
ful  one  for  Rossiter.  There  was  no  sign 
of  Havens  and  no  effort  on  her  part  to 
leave  Eagle  Nest. 


As  the  days  went  by  he  became  more 
and  more  vigilant.  In  fact,  his  watch 
was  incessant  and  very  much  of  a  personal 
ope.  He  walked  and  drove  with  her,  and 
he  invented  all  sorts  of  excuses  to  avoid 
Mrs.  Van  Haltford  and  iMiss  Crozier. 
The  purple  parasol  and  he  had  become 
almost  inseparable  friends.  The  fear  that* 
Havens  might  return  at  any  time  kept  him 
in  a  fever  of  anxiety  and  dread.  Now  that 
he  was  beginning  to  know  her  for  himself 
he  could  not  endure  the  thought  that  she 


74          THE  PURPLE  PARASOL 


cared  for  another  man.  Strange  to  say,  he 
did  not  think  of  her  husband.  Old 
Wharton  had  completely  faded  from  his 
mind;  it  was  Havens  that  he  envied.  He 
saw  himself  sinking  into  her  net,  falling 
before  her  wiles,  but  he  did  not  rebel. 

He  went  to  bed  each  night  apprehensive 
that  the  next  morning  should  find  him 
alone  and  desolate  at  Eagle  Nest,  the 
bird  flown.  It  hurt  him  to  think  that 
she  would  laugh  over  her  feat  of  outwitting 
him.  He  was  not  guarding  her  for  old 
Wharton  now;  he  was  in  his  own  employ. 
All  this  time  he  knew  it  was  wrong,  and 
that  she  was  trifling  with  him  while  the 
other  was  away.  Yet  he  had  eyes,  ears, 
and  a  heart  like  all  men,  and  they  were 


THE  PURPLE  PARASOL  75 

for  none  save  the  pretty  wife  of  Godfrey 
Wharton. 

He  spoke  to  her  on  several  occasions 
of  Dudley  and  gnashed  his  teeth  when  he 
saw  a  look  of  sadness,  even  longing,  come 
into  her  dark  eyes.  At  such  times  he 
was  tempted  to  tell  her  that  he  knew  all, 
to  confound  her  by  charging  her  with  guilt. 
But  he  could  not  collect  the  courage. 
For  some  unaccountable  reason  he  held 
his  bitter  tongue.  And  so  it  was  that 
handsome  Sam  Rossiter,  spy  and  good 
fellow,  fell  in  love  with  a  woman  who  had 
a  very  dark  page  in  her  history. 


76  THE  PURPLE  PARASOL 

She  received  mail,  of  course,  daily,  but 
he  was  not  sneak  enough  to  pry  into  its 
secrets,  even  had  the  chance  presented 
itself.  Sometimes  she  tossed  the  letters 
away  carelessly,  but  he  observed  that  there 
were  some  which  she  guarded  jealously. 


Once  he  heard  her  tell  Aunt  Josephine  that 
she  had  a  letter  from  "  Jim."  He  began 
to  discover  that  "  Jim  "  was  a  forbidden 
subject  and  that  he  was  not  discussed  ;  at 
least,  not  in  his  presence.  Many  times 
he  saw  the  two  women  in  earnest,  rather 
cautious  conversation,  and  instinctively 
felt  that  Havens  was  the  subject.  Mrs. 
Wharton  appeared  piqued  and  discon 
tented  after  these  little  talks.  He  made 


THE  PURPLE  PARASOL  77 

this  entry  in  his  diary  one  night,  a  week 
after  Havens  went  away  : 

"  I  almost  wish  he'd  come  back  and 
end  the  suspense.  This  thing  is  wearing 
on  me.  I  was  weighed  to-day  and  I  've 
lost  ten  pounds.  Mrs.  Van  Haltford  says 
I  look  hungry  and  advises  me  to  try  salt 
water  air.  I  'm  hanged  if  I  don't  give  up 
the  job  this  week.  I  don't  like  it,  any 
how.  It  does  n't  seem  square  to  be  down 
here  enjoying  her  society,  taking  her 
walking  and  all  that,  and  all  the  time 
hunting  up  something  with  which  to  ruin 


her  forever.  I  '11  stick  the  week  out,  but 
I  'm  not  decided  whether  I  '11  produce 
any  evidence  against  her  if  the  Wharton  vs. 


78  THE  PURPLE  PARASOL 

Wharton   case  ever  does   come  to  trial. 
I  don't  believe  I  could.     I  don't  want  to 
be  a  sneak." 
F 


One  day  Rossiter  and  the  purple  par 
asol  escorted  the  pretty  trifler  over  the 
valley  to  Bald  Top,  half  a  mile  from  the 
hotel.  Mrs.  Van  Haltford  and  Miss 
Crozier  were  to  join  them  later  and 
were  to  bring  with  them  Colonel  Deming 
and  Mr.  Vincent,  two  friends  who  had 
lately  arrived.  The  hotel  was  rapidly 
filling  with  fashionable  guests,  and  Mrs. 
Wharton  had  petulantly  observed,  a  day 
or  two  before,  that  the  place  was  getting 
crowded  and  she  believed  she  would  go 
away  soon.  On  the  way  over  she  said  to 
him: 


THE  PURPLE  PARASOL  79 

"  I  have  about  decided  to  go  down  to 
Velvet  Springs  for  the  rest  of  the  month. 
Don't  you  think  it  is  getting  rather  crowded 
here  ?  " 

"  I  have  been  pretty  well  satisfied,"  he 
replied,  in  an  injured  tone.  "  I  don't  see 
why  you  should  want  to  leave  here." 

"  Why  should  I  stay  if  I  am  tired  of 
the  place?  "  she  asked  demurely,  casting 
a  roguish  glance  at  his  sombre  face.  He 
clenched  the  parasol  and  grated  his  teeth. 


"  She  's  leading  me  on,  confound  her  !  " 
he  thought.  At  the  same  time  his  head 
whirled  and  his  heart  beat  a  little  faster. 
"You  shouldn't,"  he  said,  "  if  you  are 
tired.  There  's  more  of  an  attraction  at 
Velvet  Springs,  I  suppose." 


80          THE  PURPLE  PARASOL 

"  Have  you  been  there?  " 

"No." 

"  You  answered  rather  snappishly. 
Have  you  a  headache?" 

"  Pardon  me ;  I  did  n't  intend  to  an 
swer  snappishly,  as  you  call  it.  I  only 
wanted  to  be  brief." 

"Why?" 

"  Because  I  wanted  to  change  the 
subject." 

"  Shall  we  talk  of  the  weather?" 

"  I  suppose  we  may  as  well,"  he  said 
resignedly.  She  was  plainly  laughing  at 
him  now.  "  Look  here,"  he  said,  stopping 
and  looking  into  her  eyes  intently  and 
somewhat  fiercely,  "  why  do  you  want  to 
go  to  Velvet  Springs  ?  " 


THE  PURPLE  PARASOL  81 

"  Why  should  you  care  where  I  go?" 
she  answered  blithely,  although  her  eyes 
wavered. 

"  It 's  because  you  are  unhappy  here 
and  because  some  one  else  is  there.  I  'm 
not  blind,  Mrs.  —  Miss  Dering." 


"  You  have  no  right  to  talk  to  me  in 
that  manner,  Mr.  Rollins.  Corne,  we 
are  to  go  back  to  the  hotel  at  once,"  she 
said  coldly.  There  was  steel  in  her  eyes. 

He  met  her  contemptuous  look  for  a 
moment  and  quailed. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon.  I  am  a  fool,  but 
you  have  made  me  such,"  he  said  baldly. 

"  I  ?  I  do  not  understand  you,"  and 
he  could  not  but  admire  the  clever,  inno 
cent,  widespread  eyes. 


82  THE  PURPLE  PARASOL 

"  You  will  understand  me  some  day," 
he  said,  and  to  his  amazement  she  flushed 
and  looked  away.  They  continued  their 
walk,  but  there  was  a  strange  shyness  in 
her  manner  that  puzzled  him. 


"When  is  Dudley  expected  back  here?" 
he  asked  abruptly. 

She  started  sharply  and  gave  him  a 
quick,  searching  look.  There  was  a 
guilty  expression  in  her  eyes,  and  he 
muttered  something  ugly  under  his  breath. 

"  I  do  not  know,  Mr.  Rollins,"  she 
answered. 

"  When  did  you  hear  from  him  last  ?  " 
he  demanded  half  savagely. 

"  I  do  not  intend  to  be  catechized  by 
you,  sir,"  she  exclaimed,  halting  abruptly. 


r\ 


do  not  intend  to  fee  catechizted  by  you,  sir' 


THE  PURPLE  PARASOL  83 

"  WTe  shall  go  back.     You  are  very  ugly 
to-day  and  I  am  surprised." 

"  I  supposed  you  had  letters  from  him 
every  day,"  he  went  on  ruthlessly.  She 
gave  him  a  look  in  which  he  saw  pain  and 
the  shadow  of  tears,  and  then  she  turned 
and  walked  swiftly  toward  the  hotel.  His 
conscience  smote  him  and  he  turned  after 
her.  For  the  next  ten  minutes  he  was  on 
his  knees,  figuratively,  pleading  for  for 
giveness.  At  last  she  paused  and  smiled 
sweetly  into  his  face.  Then  she  calmly 
turned  and  resumed  the  journey  to  Bald 
Top,  saying  demurely  : 

"  We  have  nearly  a  quarter  of  a  mile 
to  retrace,  all  because  you  were  so  hate 
ful." 

O 


84          THE  PURPLE  PARASOL 

"And  you  so  obdurate,"  he  added 
blissfully.  He  had  tried  to  be  severe  and 
angry  with  her  and  had  failed. 


That  very  night  the  expected  came  to 
pass.  Havens  appeared  on  the  scene,  the 
same  handsome,  tragic-looking  fellow,  a 
trifle  care-worn  perhaps,  but  still  —  an 
evil  genius.  Rossiter  ran  plump  into  him 
in  the  hallway  and  was  speechless  for  a 
moment.  He  unconsciously  shook  hands 
with  the  new  arrival,  but  his  ears  were 
ringing  so  with  the  thuds  of  his  heart  that 
he  heard  but  few  of  the  brisk  words 
addressed  to  him.  After  the  eager  actor 
had  left  him  standing  humbly  in  the  hall 
he  managed  to  recall  part  of  what  had  been 
said.  He  had  come  up  on  the  express 


THE  PURPLE  PARASOL  85 

from  Boston  and  could  stay  but  a  day  or 
two.  Did  Mr.  Rossiter  know  whether 
Miss  Dering  was  in  her  room  ?  The 
barrister  also  distinctly  remembered  that 
he  did  not  ask  for  his  aunt,  which  would 
have  been  the  perfectly  natural  query. 

Half  an  hour  later  Havens  was  strolling 
about  the  grounds,  under  the  lamp  lights, 
in  and  out  of  dark  nooks,  and  close  beside 
him  was  a  slim  figure  in  white.  Their 
conversation  was  earnest,  their  manner  se 
cretive  ;  that  much  the  harassed  Rossiter 
could  see  from  the  balcony.  His  heart 


grew  sore  and  he  could  almost  feel  the 
tears  of  disappointment  surging  to  his 
eyes.  A  glance  in  his  mirror  had  shown 
him  a  face  haggard  and  drawn,  eyes 


86          THE  PURPLE  PARASOL 

strange  and  bright.  He  had  not  slept 
well,  he  knew  ;  he  had  worn  himself  out 
in  this  despicable  watch  ;  he  had  grown 
to  care  for  the  creature  he  had  been  hired 
to  spy  upon.  No  wonder  he  was  haggard. 


Now  he  was  jealous  —  madly,  fiendishly 
jealous.  In  his  heart  there  was  the 
savage  desire  to  kill  the  other  man  and  to 
denounce  the  woman.  Pacing  the  grounds 
about  the  hotel,  he  soon  worked  himself 
into  a  fever,  devilish  in  its  hotness.  More 
than  once  he  passed  them,  and  it  was  all 
he  could  do  to  refrain  from  springing  upon 
them.  At  length  he  did  what  most  men 
do:  he  took  a  drink.  Whisky  flew  down 
his  throat  and  to  his  brain.  In  his  mind's 
eye  he  saw  her  in  the  other's  arms  —  and 


THE  PURPLE  PARASOL  87 

he  could  bear  it  no  longer  !  Rushing  to 
his  room,  he  threw  himself  on  the  bed  and 
cursed. 

"  Good  heaven  !  I  love  her  !  I  love 
her  better  than  all  the  world  !  I  can't 
stay  here  and  see  any  more  of  it !  •  By 
thunder,  I  '11  go  back  to  New  York  and 
they  can  go  to  the  devil !  So  can  old 
Wharton  !  And  so  can  Grover  &/  Dick- 
hut  !" 

He  leaped  to  his  feet,  dashed  headlong 
to  the  telegraph  office  downstairs,  and 
ten  minutes  later  this  message  was  flying 
to  Grover  &/  Dickhut  : 


Get  some  one  else  for  this  job.     I  'm 
done  with  it.     Coming  home.  —  SAM. 


88          THE  PURPLE  PARASOL 

"  I  'm  coming  on  the  first  train,  too," 
muttered  the  sender,  as  he  hurried  up 
stairs.  "  I  can  pack  my  trunk  for  the 
night  stage.  I  'd  like  to  say  good- by  to 
her,  but  I  can't  —  I  could  n't  stand  it. 
What 's  the  difference  ?  She  won't  care 
whether  I  go  or  stay  —  rather  have  me  go. 
If  I  were  to  meet  her  now  I  'd  —  yes,  by 
George — kiss  her!  It's  wrong  to  love 
her,  but " 

There  was  nothing  dignified  about  the 
manner  in  which  big  Sam  Rossiter  packed 
his  trunk.  He  fairly  stamped  the  clothing 
into  it  and  did  a  lot  of  other  absurd  things. 
When  he  finally  locked  it  and  yanked  out 


THE  PURPLE  PARASOL  89 


his  watch  his  brow  was  wet  and  he  was 
trembling.  It  had  taken  just  five  minutes 
to  do  the  packing.  His  hat  was  on  the 
back  of  his  head,  his  collar  was  melting, 
and  his  cigar  was  chewed  to  a  pulp.  Cane 
and  umbrella  were  yanked  from  behind 
the  door  and  he  was  ready  to  fly.  The 
umbrella  made  him  think  of  a  certain 
parasol,  and  his  heart  grew  still  and  cold 
with  the  knowledge  that  he  was  never  to 
carry  it  again. 

"  I  hope  I  don't  meet  any  of  'em,"  he 
muttered,  pulling  himself  together  and 
rushing  into  the  hall.  A  porter  had 
already  jerked  his  trunk  down  the  stair 
steps. 


90  THE  PURPLE  PARASOL 

As  he  hastened  after  it  he  heard  the 
swish  of  skirts  and  detected  in  the  air  a 
familiar  odor,  the  suhtle  scent  of  a  perfume 
that  he  could  not  forget  were  he  to  live  a 
thousand  years.  The  next  moment  she 
came  swiftly  around  a  corner  in  the  hall, 
hurrying  to  her  rooms.  They  met  and 
both  started  in  surprise,  her  eyes  falling 
to  his  travelling-bag,  and  then  lifting  to 
his  face  in  bewilderment.  He  checked 
his  hurried  flight  and  she  came  quite  close 
to  him.  The  lights  in  the  hall  were  dim 
and  the  elevator  car  had  dropped  to 
regions  below. 

"Where  are  you  going  ?  "  she  asked  in 
some  agitation. 

"  I  am  going  back  to  New  York,"  he 


THE  PURPLE  PARASOL  91 

answered,  controlling  himself  with  an 
effort.  She  was  so  beautiful,  there  in 
the  dim  hallway. 

"To-night?"  she  asked  in  very  low 
tones. 

"In  half  an  hour." 

"And  were  you  going  without  saying 
good-by  to  —  to  us?"  she  went  on  rapidly. 

He  looked  steadily  down  into  her  solemn 
eyes  for  a  moment  and  an  expression  of 
pain,  of  longing,  came  into  his  own. 

"  It  could  n't  make  any  difference 
whether  I  said  good-by  to  you,  and  it 
would  have  been  hard,"  he  replied  un 
steadily. 

"Hard?  I  don't  understand  you,"  she 
said. 


92          THE  PURPLE  PARASOL 

"I  didn't  want  to  see  you.  Yes,  I 
hoped  to  get  away  before  you  knew  any 
thing  about  it.  Maybe  it  was  cowardly, 
but  it  was  the  best  way,"  he  cried  bitterly. 


"  What  do  you  mean?"  she  cried,  and 
he  detected  alarm,  confusion,  guilt  in  her 
manner. 

"  You  know    what    I    mean.     I    know 
everything  —  I  knew  it  before  I  came  here, 
before  I  saw  you.     It 's  why  I  am  here, 
I  'in  ashamed  to  say.    But,  have  no  fear  - 
have  no  fear  !     I  've  given  up  the  job  - 
the  nasty  job  —  and  you  can  do  as  you 
please.     The  only  trouble  is  that  I  have 
been  caught  in  the  web ;  I  've  been  trapped 
myself.     You  've  made  me  care  for  you. 
That 's  why  I'm  giving  it  all  up.     Don't 


THE  PURPLE  PARASOL  93 

look  so  frightened — I'll  promise  to  keep 
your  secret." 

Her  eyes  were  wide,  her  lips  parted, 
but  no  words  came  ;  she  seemed  to  shrink 
from  him  as  if  he  were  the  headsman  and 
she  his  victim. 

"  I  '11  do  it,  right  or  wrong  !  '  he 
gasped  suddenly.  And  in  an  instant  his 
satchel  clattered  to  the  floor  and  his  arms 
were  straining  the  slight  figure  to  his 
breast.  Burning  lips  met  hers  and  sealed 
them  tight.  She  shivered  violently, 
struggled  for  an  instant  in  his  mad  em 


brace,  but  made  no  outcry.  Gradually 
her  free  arm  stole  upward  and  around  his 
neck  and  her  lips  responded  to  the  passion 
in  his.  His  kiss  of  ecstasy  was  returned. 


THE  PURPLE  PARASOL 


The  thrill  of  joy  that  shot  through  him 
was  almost  overpowering.  A  dozen  times 
he  kissed  her.  Unbelieving,  he  held  her 
from  him  and  looked  hungrily  into  her 
eyes.  They  were  wet  with  tears. 

"  Why  do  you  go  ?  I  love  you  !  "  she 
whispered  faintly. 

Then  came  the  revulsion.  With  an 
oath  he  threw  her  from  him.  Her  hands 
went  to  her  temples  and  a  rnoan  escaped 
her  lips. 

"  Bah  !  "  he  snarled.  "  Get  away  from 
me !  Heaven  forgive  me  for  being  as 
weak  as  I've  been  to-night!' 

"  Sam  !  "  she  wailed  piteously. 

"  Don't  tell  me  anything  !     Don't  try 


THE  PURPLE  PARASOL          95 

to  explain  !  Be  honest  with  one  man,  at 
least !  " 

"  You  must  be  insane !  "  she  cried 
tremulously. 

"Don't  play  innocent, madam.  Iknow." 
In  abject  terror  she  shrank  away  from 
him.  "  But  I  have  kissed  you  !  If  I  live 
a  thousand  years  I  shall  not  forget  its 
sweetness." 

He  waved  his  hands  frantically  above 
her,  grabbed  up  his  suit-case  and  traps, 
and,  with  one  last  look  at  the  petrified 
woman  shrinking  against  the  wall  under 


96  THE  PURPLE  PARASOL 

the  blasts  of  his  vituperation,  he  dashed 
for  the  stairway.  And  so  he  left  her,  a 
forlorn,  crushed  figure. 


Blindly  he  tore  downstairs  and  to  the 
counter.  He  hardly  knew  what  he  was 
doing  as  he  drew  forth  his  pocket-book  to 
pay  his  account. 

"  Going  away,  Mr.  Rollins?"  inquired 
the  clerk,  glancing  at  the  clock.  It  was 
eleven-twenty  and  the  last  stage-coach  left 
for  Fossingford  at  eleven-thirty,  in  time 
to  catch  the  seven  o'clock  down  train. 

"  Certainly,"  was  the  excited  answer. 

"  A  telegram  came  a  few  moments  ago 
for  you,  sir,  but  I  thought  you  were  in 
bed,"  and  the  other  tossed  a  little  envelope 
out  to  him.  Mechanically  Rossiter  tore 


THE  PURPLE  PARASOL  97 

it  open.  He  was  thinking  of  the  cowering 
woman  in  the  hallway  and  he  was  cursing 
himself  for  his  brutality. 

He  read  the  despatch  with  dizzy  eyes 
and  drooping  jaw,  once,  twice,  thrice. 
Then  he  leaned  heavily  against  the 
counter  and  a  coldness  assailed  his  heart, 
so  bitter  that  he  felt  his  blood  freezing. 
It  read  : 

What  have  you  been  doing  ?  The 
people  you  were  sent  to  watch  sailed  for 
Europe  ten  days  ago. 

GROVER  &/  DICKHUT. 


The  paper  fell  from  his  trembling 
fingers,  but  he  regained  it,  natural  in 
stinct  inspiring  a  fear  that  the  clerk 
would  read  it. 


98 


THE  PURPLE  PARASOL 


"  Good  Lord  !  "  he  gasped. 

"  Bad  news,  Mr.  Rollins  ?  "  asked  the 
clerk  sympathetically,  but  the  stricken, 
bewildered  man  did  not  answer. 

What  did  it  mean  ?  A  vast  faintness 
attacked  him  as  the  truth  began  to  pene 
trate.  Out  of  the  whirling  mystery  came 
the  astounding,  ponderous  realization  that 
he  had  blundered,  that  he  had  wronged 
her,  that  he  had  accused  her  of —  Oh, 
that  dear,  stricken  figure  in  the  hallway 
above ! 

He  leaped  to  the  staircase.  Three 
steps  at  a  time  he  flew  back  to  the  scene 


THE  PURPLE  PARASOL  99 

F 


of  the  miserable  tragedy.  What  he 
thought,  what  he  felt  as  he  rushed  into 
the  hallway  can  only  be  imagined.  She 
was  gone  —  heartbroken,  killed  !  And 
she  had  kissed  him  and  said  she  loved 
him  ! 

A  light  shone  through  the  transoms 
over  the  doors  that  led  into  her  apart 
ments.  Quaking  with  fear,  he  ran  down 
the  hall  and  beat  a  violent  tattoo  upon 
her  parlor  door.  Again  he  rapped,  crazed 
by  remorse,  fear,  love,  pity,  shame,  and  a 
hundred  other  emotions. 

"  Who  is  it  ?  "  came  in  stifled  tones 
from  within. 

"It  is  I  —  Rossiter  —  I  mean  Rollins ! 


100        THE  PURPLE  PARASOL 

I  must  see  you  —  now  !     For  pity's  sake, 
let  me  in  !  " 

F 


"  How  dare  you-  '  she  began  shrilly  ; 
but  he  was  not  to  be  denied. 

"If  you  don't  open  this  door  I'll  kick 
it  in  !  "  he  shouted.  "  I  must  see  you  !  " 

After  a  moment  the  door  flew  open  and 
he  stood  facing  her.  She  was  like  a 
queen.  Her  figure  was  as  straight  as  an 
arrow,  her  eyes  blazing.  But  there  had 
been  tears  in  them  a  moment  before. 

"  Another  insult !  "  she  exclaimed,  and 
the  scorn  in  her  voice  was  withering. 
He  paused  abashed,  for  the  first  time 
realizing  that  he  had  hurt  her  beyond 
reparation.  His  voice  faltered  and  the 
tears  flew  to  his  eyes. 


THE  PURPLE  PARA-SOL         101 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  say  to  you.  It 
has  been  a  mistake — a  frightful  mistake 
-and  I  don't  know  whether  you'll  let 
me  explain.  When  I  got  downstairs  I 
found  this  telegram  and — for  heaven's 
sake,  let  me  tell  you  the  wretched  story. 
Don't  turn  away  from  me !  You  shall 
listen  to  me  if  I  have  to  hold  you  !  "  His 
manner  changed  suddenly  to  the  violent, 
imperious  forcefulness  of  a  man  driven  to 
the  last  resort. 

"Must  I  call  for  help?"  she  cried, 
thoroughly  alarmed,  once  more  the  weak 
woman,  face  to  face,  as  she  thought,  with 
an  insane  man. 


"  I  love  you  better  than  my  own  life, 
and    I  've   hurt    you    terribly.      I  'm   not 


102 


THE  PURPLE  PARASOL 


crazy,  Helen  !  But  I  've  been  a  fool,  and 
I  '11  go  crazy  if  you  don't  give  me  a  chance 
to  explain." 

Whether  she  gave  the  chance  or  no 
he  took  it,  and  from  his  eager,  pleading 
lips  raced  the  whole  story  of  his  connection 
with  the  Wharton  affair  from  first  to  last. 


He  humbled  himself,  accused  himself, 
ridiculed  himself,  and  wound  up  by  throw 
ing  himself  upon  her  mercy,  uttering 


THE  PURPLE  PARASOL         103 


protestations  of  the  love  which  had  really 
been  his  undoing. 

She  heard  him  through  without  a  word. 
The  light  in  her  eyes  changed ;  the 
fear  left  them  and  the  scorn  fled.  Instead 
there  grew,  by  stages,  wonder,  incredulity, 
wavering  doubt  and — joy.  She  under 
stood  him  and  she  loved  him  !  The  awful 
horror  of  that  meeting  in  the  hallway  was 
swept  away  like  unto  the  transformation 
scene  in  the  fairy  spectacle. 

When  he  fell  upon  his  knee  and  sought 
to  clasp  her  fingers  in  his  cold  hand  she 
smiled,  and,  stooping  over,  placed  both 
hands  on  his  cheeks  and  kissed  him. 

What  followed  her  kiss  of  forgiveness 
may  be  more  easily  imagined  than  told. 


104        THE  PURPLE  PARASOL 

"  You  see  it  was  perfectly  natural  for 
me  to  mistake  you  for  Mrs.  Wharton," 
he  said  after  awhile.  "  You  had  the 
gray  jacket,  the  sailor  hat,  the  purple 
parasol,  and  you  are  beautiful.  And, 
besides  all  that,  you  were  found  red- 
handed  in  that  ridiculous  town  of  Fossing- 
ford.  Why  should  n't  I  have  suspected 
you  with  such  a  preponderance  of  evidence 
against  you?  Anybody  who  would  get 
off  of  a  night  train  in  Fossingford  certairfly 
ought  to  be  ashamed  of  something." 


"  But  Fossingford  is  on  the  map,  is  n't 
it?  One  has  a  perfect  right  to  get  off 
where  she  likes,  has  n't  she,  provided  it  is 
on  the  map  ?  " 


it  is  because  I  Jin  re  a  fancy  for 
the 


THE  PURPLE  PARASOL         105 

"  Not  at  all  !  That 's  what  maps  are 
for :  to  let  you  see  where  you  don't  get 
off." 


"  But  I  was  obliged  to  get  off  there. 
My  ticket  said  '  Fossingford,'  and,  besides, 
I  was  to  be  met  at  the  station  in  a  most 
legitimate  manner.  You  had  no  right  to 
jump  at  conclusions." 

"  Well,  if  you  had  not  descended  to 
earth  at  Fossingford  I  wouldn't  be  in 
heaven  at  Eagle  Nest.  Come  to  think 
of  it,  I  believe  you  did  quite  the  proper 
thing  in  getting  off  at  Fossingford  —  no 
matter  what  the  hour." 

"You  must  remember  always  that 
I  have  not  taken  you  to  task  for  a  most 


106        THE  PURPLE  PARASOL 

flagrant   piece  of — shall  I  say  indiscre 
tion?" 

"Good  Heavens!" 


"  You  stopped  off  at  Fossingford  for  the 
sole  purpose  of  seeing  another  woman." 

"  That 's  all  very  fine,  dear,  but  you  '11 
admit  that  Dudley  was  an  excellent  sub 
stitute  for  Havens.  Can't  you  see  how 
easy  it  was  to  be  mistaken?  " 

"  I  won't  fall  into  easy  submission. 
Still,  I  believe  I  could  recommend  you 
as  a  detective.  They  usually  do  the 
most  unheard  of  things  —  just  as  you  have. 
Poor  Jim  Dudley  an  actor!  Mistaken 
for  such  a  man  as  you  say  Havens  is ! 
It  is  even  more  ridiculous  than  that  I 
should  be  mistaken  for  Mrs.  Wharton." 


THE  PURPLE  PARASOL         107 

*'  Say,  I  'd  like  to  know  something 
about  Dudley.  It  was  his  confounded 
devotion  to  you  that  helped  matters  along 
in  my  mind.  What  is  he  to  you  ?  " 

"He  came  here  to-night  to  repeat  a 
question  that  had  been  answered  unalter 
ably  once  before.  Jim  Dudley?  Have 
you  never  heard  of  James  Dudley,  the 
man  who  owns  all  of  those  big  mines  in 
South  America,  the  man  who " 


"  Who  owns  the  yachts  and  auto 
mobiles  and  —  and  the  railroad  trains  ?  Is 
he  the  one?  The  man  with  the  millions? 
Good  Lord  !  And  you  could  have  had 
him  instead  of  me  ?  Helen,  I  —  I  don't 
understand  it.  Why  did  n't  you  take 
him?" 


108        THE  PURPLE  PARASOL 

She  hesitated  a  moment  before  an 
swering  brightly  : 

"  Perhaps  it  is  because  I  have  a  fancy 
for  the  ridiculous." 


JJ 

f 

LU-URL    J 


Fo 


University  of  California 

SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 

405  Hilgard  Avenue,  Los  Angeles,  CA  90024-1388 

Return  this  material  to  the  library 

from  which  it  was  borrowed. 


NON-RENEWABU 

APR  0  6  1995 
DUE 2  WKS  FROM  DUE  RECEIVED 


A     000  929  055     2 


